


Vacationland

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: cliche_bingo, Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-27
Updated: 2009-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm going to go on record here and say that your idea of a family vacation sucks," Jeannie said.</p><p>"Oh, you so can't blame this one on me!" Rodney spluttered, wedging a chair underneath the door handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vacationland

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to sheafrotherdon and dogeared for audiencing. Written for cliche_bingo for the prompt 'zombies'.

"I'm going to go on record here and say that your idea of a family vacation _sucks_," Jeannie said.

"Oh, you so can't blame this one on me!" Rodney spluttered, wedging a chair underneath the door handle.

"Come on, Jeannie! you said. Let's go to this convention on supersymmetric quantum mechanics together! All the other attendees will be terrified at the thought of the McKay siblings working together again and it will be _fun_, you said."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Explain to me how this one could _possibly_ be my fault? The dynamic of blame in this family is more than a little skewed."

"I'm trapped in a Holiday Inn in Pittsburgh, and I just had to fend off a zombie using its own _rotting arm_, oh my _god_, Meredith. This is always going to be your fault!"

"I abjure all fault! I may have committed some, uh, errors in judgement on rare occasions—"

"Destroying a solar system is not usually classified as 'an error in judgement', Mer."

"—but I have never, _ever_ raised the undead. As a matter of _principle_." He made a face at Jeannie when she waggled the arm in his face before dropping it onto the floor, where the carpet around it immediately took on a suspicious brown tinge.

"You know, I'm not sure that I should let Madison hang around with you in future. I don't want you inculcating zombie-raising beliefs in her, especially not if they're responsible for zombies eating her mother."

"Oh, for the love of—you are not going to be _eaten by zombies_." Rodney's arms flailed in an attempt to encompass just how _wrong_ Jeannie was about all of this. "This is obviously caused by some kind of freak alignment of, of something—tides, planets, that cheese I ate before bedtime—and as soon as the Colonel gets back here with that flame thrower, this will all be over and I can get on with the heady business of repressing, repressing, repressing until I sublimate this all in whatever part of my psyche is still dealing with—"

"I cannot believe you are so chipper about this." Jeannie pursed her lips at him, looking eerily like their mother for a moment.

"I—_what_? Are you high on the decomposition fumes or something, because of all the things I am right now, _chipper_ is not one of them."

"Well, let's face it, I'm the one that's going to die first. Sure, I'd be able to outrun you if they ever do get through that door—"

"Hey!" Rodney yelped, offended. He'd been doing a lot of cross-training with Ronon lately. Or at least, he'd tried to train and Ronon had been cross with him; close enough for government work.

"—but it's my brains they'll be after."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jeannie shrugged, elaborately nonchalant. "I'm not boasting, I'm merely pointing out that a _certain_ someone figured out how to use the matter bridge, and it wasn't you."

"Are you saying that my brains aren't tasty enough for zombies? For _Pittsburgh_ zombies?"

"I'm not _saying_ anything."

"Oh, but you're definitely implying! You know, that's a definite error in logic on your part, by the way—they might go after you first because _my_ grey matter will be toughened from actual use and true scientific endeavour, whereas yours will still be tender and pink from lack of—hey! _Hey_, ew, god, Jeannie, stop hitting me with the disembodied zombie arm!"

"I cannot _believe_ you, Meredith."

"Ow, god, stop it. I bruise."

"I am not going on any more trips with you! I mean it! The next time you and John are back on Earth, you're going to come to Vancouver and have an awkward, uncomfortable stay at my house just like regular in-laws do."

"Fine by me!" Rodney said, folding his arms and trying not to feel awkward and uncomfortable right there at the reminder that he and John were, well, _you know_.

"Fine!"

"_Fine_."

There was a long pause—outside the door, the zombies scratched at the wood and moaned softly—then Jeannie clicked her fingers. "Hey, isn't there an access panel down to the—"

"Well, yes, the basement garage, but there's no way to get out without the—"

"No, no, not out, if we could use the—"

Rodney's eyes widened for a moment, and then he beamed. "Yes, yes! Home-made napalm!"

"We could totally—"

"Yes!" Rodney nodded fervently, then spread his hands wide. "_Boom_."

Jeannie grinned at him, then pushed him in the right direction. "Best vacation ever."


End file.
